Sir Edmund had told him his job was still there for him if he wished and also expressed his sincere remorse on behalf of Whitehall for the conclusions drawn over Ross Thornton. Changes would be made, he’d asserted with steel in his eyes, and Hugh believed him.
As to the future, Hugh had asked for some time to think on it.
With Amelia.
So yestereve, they’d discussed their hopes and found their sentiments were in accord. No more deadly missions. No more fear for one another. No more bullets. They’d done their service and new adventures beckoned.
This morning, Amelia had given Lord Rainham notice that when possible, she wished to resign her position. But her superior, seeming to have been hitherto aware of what she was to ask, had steepled his fingers and stated that though she would be missed, Amelia could relinquish her position whenever she chose.
Then he’d offered an alternative for them both to mull…
The clock chimed five and Amelia stretched. “Lady Kemble is due to arrive at a half past the hour. Do you feel well enough?” She sat up, having regained her nurse mien but it was betrayed by her curved lips.
“Aunt’s company is a delight now she’s not trying to marry me off to Miss Bunwell-Birdwhistle-Blacktoft.”
A smirk. “I shall leave you to it then.”
She twisted but Hugh caught her hand and kissed the wrist, heard her hitch of breath.
“I cannot wait, Amelia Lambert, for the night you will be my bride.”
A blush and that delicious backside sashayed to the door.
Hugh threwThe Timesaside,having previously read it thrice and–
Frantic footfall in the corridor and he glanced up, just as a knock rattled, the door was flung open and a black figure with pale wet cheeks dashed in, closing the door behind her.
Sobs intermingled with hitched gasps.
“Phoebe! Who’s hurt you? I’ll throttl–”
“No…No…” She came to a halt by the bed, waving what looked to be a letter, and although tears still gathered and tumbled, he could now discern a quivering smile to her lips.
“My blackbird?”
“I…” She swiped at her face, sniffed and bit her lip. “A letter came for me just this afternoon. From Sir Edmund.”
Ah.
Hugh patted the bed aside him. “And what does he have to say?”
With a distinct snag to her breath, his ward settled herself and smoothed the letter across her knee. “He a-apologises to me on behalf of all at Whitehall.” She swallowed. “That Papa was wrongly accused.” Her awash black eyes gleamed. “He says that my papa was a true hero.”
“And so he was, blackbird.”
One tear escaped its confines. “And not only that but…h-his name will be given to a new Home Office honour of gallantry, one to be presented each year. To only the most dedicated officers, that my father will be the first recipient and…and…”
Hugh twisted, arms outstretched, and she fell into his fierce hug, tears plummeting once more.
“Ah, Phoebe. That is wonderful news. ’Tis fully deserved. He will be remembered forever. As a loyal man dedicated to justice and his country.”
Her face rubbed up and down on his shoulder.
Hugh held her. “I know it won’t return him to us but…”
“No, but it helps me,” was the muffled answer before she drew back. “He was brave and honourable, we know that, and we don’t have to hide it anymore. No one can tell lies about him. Papa was taken from me and I shall miss him every single day but those who did it were brought to justice.” She frowned at his damaged arm. “And it’s all thanks to you and Amelia.”
He reached for her hand. “Your father saved my life, Phoebe. I owe him so much. But more than that, he was my friend and I will miss him also.” He wiped her damp cheeks with his nightshirt cuff, his own emotions an odd sense of loss and triumph. Ross had indeed been vindicated but a good friend and loving father was gone. One who could never be replaced.
